The Unknown Potter
by Chew Chew Cha Finch
Summary: The Elder Brother of the Girl Who Lived was virtually unknown, until he came for the Triwizard Tournament. But, after the rebirth of Voldemort, he'll return to help his sister in the war against the dark.
1. Chapter 1

**Well, welcome back to those who have read this before, and welcome to those new to this story. This is, essentially the same as it was once before, but I've changed it slightly. Instead of the Twins Who Lived, there is now the Girl Who Lived. Some of you may be annoyed at this and some may not. Main reason for this is that it makes it easier to write for me, and fits with what i planned for later in the story. If you dont want to read through the whole thing again, feel free to skip the first three chapters, as the only difference is the whole only one girl who lived, and a few grammar corrections or changes to some sentences to make them flow better.**

**So, on with the story, well after a disclaimer, that is.**

**Disclaimer: I do not, and probably never will, own Harry Potter**

"So!" said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to inform you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has, this year, been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. He continued, "As always, I would like to remind you all that the Forbidden Forest is, surprisingly, forbidden; as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

"What?" someone sat at the Gryffindor tabled gasped. Members of the house Quidditch teams were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak. Dumbledore went on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy - but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts -"

Dumbledore would have continued, but at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning heavily upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swivelled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark grey hair, and began to walk up toward the teachers' table.

A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling. Various people gasped.

The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any the students had ever seen. It looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that made him frightening.

One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was forever moving, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye - and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that all they could see was whiteness.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words the student body couldn't hear. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmilingly and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side.

The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark grey hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."

It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students' clapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid, who both put their hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.

Moody seemed totally indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome. Tapping the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him with his wand, nodded in satisfaction, and took a long draught from it. As he lifted his arm to drink, his cloak was pulled a few inches from the ground, and several inches of carved wooden leg, ending in a clawed foot, was revealed.

Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" said a red headed Gryffindor, Fred Weasley, loudly.

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "'though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"Er - but maybe this is not the time...no..." said Dumbledore, "Where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament...well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.

"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities - until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

At the mention of a death toll, some, though they were in the minority, of the students looked alarmed. The majority, however, were whispering excitedly to one another, while most seemed more interested in hearing about the tournament than worrying about deaths that happened hundreds of years ago.

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own Department of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that, this time, no champion will find him or herself in mortal danger.

"The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at the Halloween Feast. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

"I'm going for it!" Fred Weasley hissed down the table, his face lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and riches. He was not the only person who seemed to be visualizing himself as the Hogwarts champion though. At every House table, people could be seen either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or else whispering fervently to their neighbours. But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more.

"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he said, "the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age - that is to say, seventeen years or older - will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This -" Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, and the Weasley twins, Fred and his brother, George, were suddenly looking furious - "is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion." His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Fred's and George's mutinous faces. "I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen.

"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop-chop!"

As the students filed out of the hall, Hermione Granger, a bushy haired brunette fourth year, ran up to her friend, Jasmine Potter.

"You didn't seem too upset that the Quidditch tournament is cancelled this year." Hermione observed. Jasmine Potter the red haired, hazel eyed Girl Who Lived -or as some of the Slytherins had taken to calling them, the Girl Who Didn't Die- and Gryffindor's star seeker shrugged.

"That's because Harry's gonna be here this year." Jasmine said with a shrug.

Contrary to popular belief, while Hermione did study a lot, and could be found with her nose almost constantly in a book, she wasn't the authority loving, rule abiding (ok, so she did stick to _most_ of the rules), bookworm most would have thought her to be. And, to prove this, she almost instantly started teasing Sienna.

"Ah, let me guess, a hunky, talk, dark and mysterious stranger that you've been crushing on?" she asked with a giggle. She would have settled for a light slap on the arm, or a blush in response. She wasn't, however, expecting Jasmine to scrunch up her face, turn slightly green and elicit a loud "Ewww", catching a few people's attention.

"Hermione…That's… It's…. Ewww!" Jasmine spluttered, and then finally settled in repeating her earlier exclamation.

Hermione was confused, she hadn't expected her to be so disgusted by almost every other girl's dream guy. "So, you don't like the tall dark and mysterious type?" she asked.

"Of course I do! But I draw the line at incest. So, if I didn't make it clear enough, I do happen to like 'tall, dark and mysterious', however, if he happens to be my brother, I think I'll pass."

Hermione, not really paying attention, just nodded in response. It was only when she ran it back through her head that she gave a proper reply, "Wait, Incest? Brother? When were you planning on telling me this?" she exclaimed.

Once again, Jasmine shrugged, "You never asked if I had any siblings." Jasmine replied. "No one ever does." She mutter sadly.

"Ok, so maybe never asking was my fault, but if he's your brother, why's he only coming to Hogwarts now?"

"Well, he's in his seventh year, and he turned seventeen over the summer…"

Hermione put the pieces together, "So he's coming for the tournament? But which school will he represent if he is picked?"

"Hogwarts." Jasmine said simply.

"Hogwarts?" Hermione asked.

"Well, he doesn't go to Beauxbatons or Durmstrang. He attends, or I should say, attended Salem Institute of Magic in America." Jasmine explained. "What I don't get is, if the school's called Salem, shouldn't it be in Salem, and not California?"

Hermione ignored her, and she grinned, "You didn't deny that he was tall, dark and mysterious. And if he's been living in California, he's gotta have a nice tan."

"Great," Jasmine muttered, "our resident know-it-all is going boy crazy, and guess what makes it worse? She's pining after our brother."

"I heard that!" Hermione sing-songed as she got ready for bed.

"Yeah well…" The Girl Who Lived waved her hand in dismissal, "G'night."


	2. Chapter 2

**So here is the revised chapter 2, same changes as chapter one ;)**

**Disclaimer: I dont own Harry Potter (rather unfortunate if you ask me, though i doubt you will)**

Everyone had been excitable in the past few weeks, impatiently anticipating the arrival of the representatives of the other to participating schools. Well, everyone except two, who were more focused on the arrival of a specific person.

For the past three weeks, Hermione had been pestering Jasmine to tell her about her brother, but she wouldn't give an inch. It usually came down to changing the subject or completely ignoring her all together. At one point, the bushy haired muggleborn had worked up the courage to ask Professor Lily Potter nee Evans, Hogwarts' Muggle Studies Professor, about her son. However, in response, Lily had pointed somewhere in the distance, and, while Hermione's back was turned, Professor Potter had vanished. Hermione was _still_ trying to find out how she had disappeared.

However, no matter how hard she tried, the two red haired witches kept her in suspense. She hadn't gone so far as to lose sleep over it, but it still bugged her not knowing something, despite having, mostly, grown out of her bookworm phase.

But there the two friends were, walking down to the Entrance Hall to await the arrival of the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons representatives.

"So, it's been three weeks since you mentioned him, and all I know is that he's of age, lived in America, and is possible tall dark and mysterious." Hermione commented.

"Actually, I also said that he went to Salem and his name is Harry

"Oh, I guess that makes," Hermione started happily, but her tone changed into a more sarcastic drawl, "absolutely, positively, no difference whatsoever."

The Jasmine just shrugged, not bothered in the slightest by the heated glare from her friend. And Hermione, noticing that Jasmine was going to spill the beans on her brother, huffed in annoyance.

As they arrived at the Entrance Hall where the rest of the school was waiting, they realised that they were some of the last to get there. They stood at the back of the large group and strained their ears to hear the last of Professor McGonagall's speech.

"-half an hour," she said, "the delegates from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will arrive. I expect all of you to be on your best behaviour during their stay. Now, we will be heading out onto the grounds, near the Black Lake."

She turned and led the students outside, where they waited for twenty minutes, idly chatting, before someone spotted something at the lake.

"Look at the lake! It's bubbling!" a Hufflepuff fourth year shouted. The entire student body turned to face the lake and spoke in excited whispers. They watched in stunned silence, as a large wooden pirate-like ship broke the surface and started sailing toward the shore. Professor McGonagall quickly informed the Hogwarts students that it was Durmstrang. About thirty feet from the beach, a large, sturdy gang plank was dropped, and a group of heavily cloaked people strode across and onto the shore. They wore thick furred coats and heavy cloaks, though they looked as though they were beginning to get a bit hot, despite being in Scotland where the winter was fast approaching.

Dumbledore smiled and walked over to a tall man heading the group of students, engaging him in a conversation. Dumbledore gestured towards the castle, where the tall, moustached man led his students into the building.

As they Hogwarts students quietened down, another shout announcing something heading towards the school. It was a rapidly approaching dot in the sky that some were dismissing as a simple bird, but as it grew closer, it became clearer as to what it was; a wheeled carriage being pulled four winged horses around the size of a full grown Elephant.

As it grew closer to the school and ground in anticipation of its landing, it was frighteningly obvious how fast the carriage was moving. As it slowed and finally touched down, it carried on for a few feet, finally coming to a rest.

The winged horses, Abraxans, turned and trotted toward the students, the carriage being pulled along behind them. It came to a stop a few feet away from the Headmaster and the doors opened. Many of the students that had gathered gasped, for the woman exiting the carriage was the tallest woman any of them had ever seen; she seemed even taller than Hagrid!

As she descended the steps to the ground, her students followed, predominantly females, though there were males scatted about in the group. The Beauxbatons students were dressed in light blue silk robes, and they seemed to shiver slightly in the cold October weather. Dumbledore once again approached the delegates, and held a brief conversation with the large woman, before gesturing back to the school, motioning for the delegates to proceed towards the castle.

The Hogwarts students followed slightly behind them as they headed up and into the castle; the lone figure leaning against a motorcycle on the edge of the Forbidden Forest having gone largely unnoticed, except a relatively tall blonde witch dressed in light blue robes. She had acknowledged him with a wink, which he returned by bringing his index and middle finger up to his forehead in a mock salute, smirking slightly.

Jasmine, Hermione and Professor Potter trudged back up to the castle, slightly upset that they hadn't seen Harry. Though they guessed he'd be arriving sooner or later.

They entered the Great Hall, taking little notice of their surroundings. The Great Hall had been transformed, like every year, for All Hallows Eve. Jack-o'-Lanterns floated serenely near the ceiling, casting a strangely eerie, yet warm light on the vast room, and instead of four House banners being hung over their respective tables, three banners, each bearing a school's crest, hung above the head table.

It was only when all of the Hogwarts students were seated did they notice that the other two schools weren't sat down. The two schools entered just before the whispering started, the pale blue robed students headed toward the Ravenclaw table while the fur wearing students headed towards the Slytherins.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," said Dumbledore, beaming around the hall and at the foreign students. "I take great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable.

"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," said Dumbledore. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

The students, and teachers, were all too engrossed in their meal and conversations to see the same figure that had gone unnoticed sitting up at the head table, next to Professor Flitwick.

All of the students, including, surprisingly enough, the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang representatives, were chatting amiably throughout, and, when the last of the desserts had disappeared, Dumbledore rose to address the hall.

"The moment has come." said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket, just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation" - there was a smattering of polite applause - "and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his fame as a retired Wimbourne Wasps Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likable. He acknowledged it with a jovial wave of his hand whereas Bartemius Crouch did neither smile nor wave when his name was announced. His toothbrush mustache and severe parting looked very odd next to Dumbledore's long white hair and beard.

"Mr's Bagman and Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime and I, on the panel that will judge the champions efforts."

At the mention of the word 'champions', the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore pushing a wheeled platform with a wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students; a first year Gryffindor actually stood on his chair to see it properly, but, being so tiny, his head hardly rose above anyone else's.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr's Crouch and Bagman," Dumbledore said as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, held throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways… their magical prowess - their daring - their powers of deduction - and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."

At his last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing.

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," Dumbledore went on calmly, "one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames.

Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," said Dumbledore. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," said Dumbledore, "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete, that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have been chosen to champion a school. Please be very sure that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet.

"Now that the serious business is finished, I would like to introduce one more guest. He will be attending Hogwarts this year to gain his Mastery in Charms under the tutelage of our very own Professor Flitwick." Professor gestured over to the stranger, who stood up, raising himself to his full six foot three inch height. His strong jaw, lithe and powerful frame, and bright green eyes attracted the attention of most of the females in the room. He had foregone the usual Wizarding robes, instead opting for a muggle black v-neck t-shirt that was just tight enough to hint at toned muscles, and grey hoody with faded blue Jeans. His hair, which was brushed slightly to side while still seeming messy, was a dark ebony. A small tattoo could be seen on his left bicep, just below his sleeve, and if one were to look close enough, they would be able to make out the words _Aut__inveniam__viam__aut__unum_ written in fine cursive script. His eyes scanned the room, stopping slightly on someone sat at the Ravenclaw table, and carrying over the rest of the hall.

Dumbledore continued on as the man sat down, "He may also pop into first to fifth year classes to offer Professor Flitwick his help, and," he said, a certain twinkle appearing in his eyes, "he may also decide to enter his name into the goblet. So, without further ado, I would like to introduce Harry Potter." The stranger rose once again, his green eyes twinkling in mirth as the whole hall fell into a shocked silence.

It was understandable though, Potter wasn't a common name in the Wizarding world, and by that logic, they had figured that he must be a relative of the Girl Who Lived. Harry noticed with amusement as his sister, who hadn't been paying attention up until that point, snapped her head up, locking eyes with the smirking young man. Jasmine's face sprouted an ear to ear grin and she emitted a cry of "Harry!" as she leapt to her feet as if to rush up and give her brother a hug. She seemed to take a step forward before remembering where she was. Her face took a rosy tint as she sat down and tried to hide her face behind her hair.

While everyone was focused on the Girl Who Lived, Harry once again met the eyes of the blonde haired, blue eyed witch sat at the Ravenclaw table. The corners of his lips twitched upwards as he struggled not to laugh, mirth shining in his bright emerald eyes. He slipped through the door near the teachers table, wanting to get to his quarters before the masses struggled to exit the hall.


	3. Chapter 3

**Do i really need to say it? Doubtless as to the necessity of this message, i shall say it again, only differences are the same as in chapters 1 & 2**

**Disclaimer: I guess I'm repeating myself here, but i shall endeavour to let it be known that I dont own Harry Potter.**

She wrapped her cloak tighter around her shoulders as looked towards the lake, the sun just peaking over the horizon. Cupping her hands around her mouth and blowing in a vain attempt at warming them up, she trudged across the frosty grass towards the figure jogging along the shore. She stopped once she reached the edge of the lake, staring out over the waters as the figure finished his final lap, coming up behind her.

"I don't understand how you can wake up zis earlier, 'arry." The blonde quarter-Veela said, her French accent adding a slight seductive twist to even the most simple of sentences.

Harry wrapped his arms around her from behind, bending down to rest his chin on her shoulder. "And I don't understand why you put on that ridiculous accent."

"It makes me sound sexy, though most of the time; it keeps a lot of you crass Englishmen away if they think I can't speak English very well." She said, smirking slightly. "You know, you never told me why you went to that American school. I mean, if I was you and I wanted to go to a different school, I would have just gone to Beauxbatons or Durmstrang."

"Hmm. Well, if I just wanted to go to a different school, I would have. But that wasn't the reason I went to Salem."

"Are you going to elaborate?" Fleur said, waving her hand and motioning for him to continue.

"If you insist." He huffed in mock annoyance before turning slightly downcast, more serious, "It started around when I was five, and the Jasmine was two. It had been a few months since Voldemort's attack, and the Minister had been badgering my mother and father to bring her to all these ministry functions. In the end, they gave in, though they did vow to never let Jasmine become too big headed. I never liked big crowds, so instead of attending the galas or whatever, I stayed home with my Uncle Remus. From there, I guess my parents and I, well I grew up slightly more independent than was usually and eventually we grew apart. I was always doing stuff for myself, only relying on my parents for the essentials. You see, because of staying with Remus, who was the more studious of my dad's friends, instead of going to the Ministry events, I picked up his preference of an afternoon with a good book." He took a breather, pulling Fleur back a bit to sit on the grass.

He sat on the ground, leaning back on his hands with his legs stretched out in front of him, Fleur leaning back against his chest. "So, eventually, when I was about seven years old, I'd moved away from fiction and on to text books. I won't lie and tell you that I was some sort of prodigy and mastered spells in a few hours. No, I had to work at it, and work hard. A lot of the theory was too complicated for a child's mind, but Remus was there to help.

"James managed to convince the Minister to stop tracking the underage magic that occurred at the Potter household. He'd said to Fudge that it was because Jasmine would need training when she was older, but I liked to think that it was for my benefit as well, sort of an apology for not spending as much time with me."

"So I'm guessing that you went to Salem because it was for gifted students?" Fleur asked, trying to piece together the information.

Harry turned her round to face him and gave her a light peck on the lips, "Good guess, but that wasn't the main reason. So anyway, me and my parents, well, we grew apart. I didn't need them, and I was learning on my own. Well, mostly on my own. But I always made time for my little sister if she ever wanted me to go to the park or play with her. So, by the time I was ten, my knowledge of magic equal to about that of a third year. And then my Hogwarts letter came. Like all parents, my mum and dad were proud of the fact that 'their little boy was finally growing up'. They didn't know, however, that I'd already applied for Salem, and so it was a shock to them when an Owl arrived with my Salem acceptance letter. It took me at least two hours to explain my reasoning. I finally got it through to them that I did it for the _adventure, _going out into the unknown, and finally being able to make friends without having to worry if they were really my friends, or pretending to be friends to get into the good books of the Girl Who Lived."

Fleur frowned slightly; she hadn't expected his life to be so complicated when they first met in Bordeaux two years ago. He'd actually seemed like he didn't have a care in the world as he strolled down the main magical shopping centre in France. Fleur had bumped into him as she exited the book shop, laden down by her next year's text books. It had been the classic romantic moment; him, bending down to help pick up her stuff, and her, looking up and into his gorgeous emerald eyes. Well, it had been until he politely told her to watch where she was walking. She had begun chewing him out in front of everyone, but was caught off guard when he clamped a hand over her mouth and pulled her over to a small café.

From there, they'd started a tentative friendship, Owling each other during the course of the school year. They gradually grew to become good friends, and when he'd returned to Bordeaux the next year, after spending the summer together, he asked her out. Harry had made quite the fool of himself in doing so as well. He'd stuttered nervously, rambled on, and when she'd said yes, he 'whooped' and punched the air. Unfortunately, they'd been sat in the café that they had their first conversation in, and he had accidently punched a waiter in the chin, causing him to drop a scolding hot coffee into Harry's groin. It had been entertaining to say the least, but they had been asked to leave the café.

Fleur withdrew from her memories and back to the present as she heard Harry begin to speak again. "I didn't want to have to put up with them pretending to be my friends- which I find weird anyway, how could pretending to be my friend have gotten you into the good books of my three-years-younger sister?- so I decided to get away from it. I went to America for my schooling, spending my summers how proper holidays should be spent; going to Spain, France, or travelling across the States. 'Course, getting my Triumph made that a lot more fun." Harry smirked slightly as he saw Fleur pale at the mention of his motorbike; he'd taken her out on it the previous summer, and scared her witless. "I did go back to the Potter manor at Christmas and for the twin's birthday, but I guess it didn't make much difference. Jasmine, Sienna and I were always pretty close, but over the past two years or so, we've gradually grown apart." Harry shrugged, as if not knowing where to continue on from there, absently tracing patterns up Fleur's arms.

They sat there in an amiable silence, neither willing, nor wanting, to break it. Harry had just told her more than he had anyone else, and it felt…liberating. He felt the lightest he had in years. He sighed in content, before smirking slightly.

Seeing this, Fleur quirked and eyebrow. "What? Do you know something I don't?"

"Of course I do." Harry chuckled as he dodged her swipe at his head. "There's a Yule Ball on Christmas Eve."

"Well, you better look your best; I don't want to be shown up by some of these Hogwarts ruffians." She said, sticking her nose in the air, full of mock self-importance. "When are you putting your name in the cup? I'll be entering when I get back to the castle. And you can bet I won't be going easy on you."

She gave him a lingering kiss before heading back up towards the building.

Harry chuckled slightly, running his hand through his hair before rubbing his neck. He jogged to catch her up, throwing an arm around her. "I already put my name in the cup before I came out here; wanted to avoid the whispers and whatever. And I wouldn't want or expect you to go easy on me, Merlin knows you and Krum are the only decent competition around here."

Fleur scrunched her face up, lifting Harry's arm off her shoulder, trying to avoid touching it at all costs. "Do you have any idea how bad you smell when you sweat?"


End file.
